


Road trip down Nightmare Lane

by Wicked_Northstar



Category: Cross-country skiing RPF, Skiing RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Forced to submit, M/M, Memories, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 21:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Northstar/pseuds/Wicked_Northstar
Summary: Johannes has a lot to think about during the long drive to Lygna for the national championship. Unfortunately, not all memories are of the pleasant kind.





	Road trip down Nightmare Lane

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes inspiration from one of Johannes' vlog posts, as well as from some of Didrik's quotes during the first part of the national championships in 2017. I might have stretched some facts and interpreted some things in my own way, though, but we'll get along fine if you accept that.

Packing the car should have been easy, but Johannes still had to double- and triple-check that he had everything. Of course he wouldn’t forget obvious things like his equipment bag or the small bag of clothes and items he had packed already last night - it was the minor things he was worried about. Sunglasses? Check. Selfie-stick? Check. Phone charger? He felt the shape of it in one of the outside pockets on his bag. Okay, check. 

Only one thing was still missing. 

The small bag of car-shaped candy that he had hidden inside his jacket. He threw it in the passenger seat, on top of some magazines and other minor stuff he had not bothered to find a more sensible place to put. A moment later he covered the small heap with his jacket before shutting the passenger door with sudden determination.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You could always just go with me, you know."

The seemingly concerned tone of voice caused a sudden cold shiver up his spine. He stifled a sigh. 

Was that really all it took? Just one question; one hint of that fake compassion he had learned to recognise a long time ago, and he was already cracking. Inside. On the surface, though, he needed only the time it took him to slowly turn around to gather his courage.

"I’m sure," he said calmly. "I don’t mind the solitude."

"I know you don’t," Didrik replied with a shrug that couldn’t quite cover up the biting undertone. "Suit yourself."

However, he made no immediate move to leave, and only took a few steps to the side as Johannes brushed past him to get into his car.

Moments later, surrounded by the safety of the road in front of him and the snow-covered, open fields on both sides, Johannes wondered what that moment had been about. It seemed like the mock version of seeing him safely off; like it had been specifically planned to leave him mentally off balance ahead of the long trip. 

Well, he wasn’t going to let that bother him for the next six hours.

Was that a smirk he had seen on Didrik’s face in the rear mirror as he left, though? 

***

He was fifteen the first time he had paid attention to Didrik in _that_ way. Perhaps he did not even think of it like that back then, but he understood it now.

The pride he had felt when his older club mates had won the relay at the Nationals that winter was one thing. Perhaps it was even completely natural, considering the fact that he knew them all to at least some extent. He was used to seeing them on the course before or after his own trainings, and already familiar with the little sting of admiration that would always spur him on and make him work harder to be a little stronger and a little faster than before. 

The way he looked at Didrik that winter was different, though. He had always thought that his admiration had been about skill and strength and dedication and the fact that the older boy had actually been part of the relay-winning team at the Nationals. But if that was so, why did he still remember certain minor details so clearly?

The laughing eyes that had been fixed on him for a long moment, that time when he got into a snowball fight with some of the older boys after practice, once. Didrik’s hand holding him down in the snow, just long enough to make it clear that he’d won the fight. That, and those beautiful lips curved into a teasing smile just inches from his face.

Just that one time. Johannes had tried to brush the memory aside in his mind. It would have been so much easier if he could simply just forget it.

_He’s not going to look at you twice ever again. Fuck._

***

The thought resurfaced a few days after his sixteenth birthday, though not in the way Johannes had imagined.

If there was one thing he had never expected, it was having Didrik as a coach. Most likely it would be just for a limited time; some kind of club project where there more experienced skiers where supposed to increase their technical understanding through teaching youngsters. It was supposed to be a win-win situation, one they would all benefit from in the end. However, Johannes did not care about any of that. 

In that moment, all he cared about was the gaze that locked on him for a long second. He felt the weight of one specific shared memory in that look, and even as Didrik continued to talk about skiing techniques and tactical choices, Johannes wondered whether he saw the hint of a crooked smile between words, or if that was just a trick of his mind.

 _Focusing suddenly got so much more difficult._

It did not get easier over the next few weeks. 

The first proper snowfall meant that they could practice under proper conditions for the first time in months. However, it also meant more technical focus in training, and having to get accustomed to new conditions after having practiced on roller skis for the whole summer.

Not that Johannes complained about exactly that change. This was the real thing, and in his ideal world there would be snow at least on the practice course for most of the year. No such luck, though. Not in Trondheim, anyway. 

As always, having snow under his skis felt a bit strange at first. He was not the only one who needed time to adjust his technique, and in training Didrik would go around and point out individual mistakes, make changes to their stance and show how even a small adjustment could mean getting much more power from each push. That, in turn, meant seconds of improvement on the course. 

Theoretically speaking, Johannes had no problem adjusting to the new tips, or make sure he got the most out of each push. However, maintaining the technical brilliance towards the end of the practice session, when he was tired and panting for breath and still needed to do one more lap around the course, was the hard part.

Didrik had made him stop to think it over. 

"Do you see why you’re slower on these last couple of laps?"

Johannes had tried to nod, but in reality he had been more focused on catching his breath. "Tired," he had panted, leaning much of his weight on the ski poles.

"Good," Didrik remarked with a grin. "You should be. This sport hurts. It hurts like hell if you want to be the best." He had left the words in the air for a moment, apparently gauging the reaction. Then, a moment later, he had closed the distance between them and wrapped one arm around Johannes under the excuse of making him adjust his stance according to what they had talked about earlier.

Even years later, Johannes could still remember that moment. That almost-embrace, the hands that rested on his body a little longer than necessary… and then finally a rough push in his back, ending the magic at least for the time being.

"Go, now! Give it your all, but don’t forget to think of your technique." 

He had an incentive to do as he was told, now.

***

He should have known that those deliberate, accidental touches would never be enough. Perhaps he had given the wrong signals himself; balancing the desire to be the best skier he possibly could with the boyish crush on his coach and the need for recognition from said coach left him bewildered much of the time. 

Scared, even. 

Like that evening behind the changing cabin. The building was nothing fancy at all; old and cold and made of wood. The area behind it was, however, invisible from both the training course as well as from the parking lot on the other side of the building. 

Johannes had been almost ready to leave. He was just going to go inside to pick up his backpack when a familiar voice had made him stop.

"I knew I would find you here."

Just like that. As if there had been a plan behind even that seemingly random moment; like it was clearly no accident that they were suddenly alone in the only secluded spot in the whole area. 

Even then - or perhaps especially then - he would have recognised that voice anywhere. The self-assured tone was the same as always, but the hint of a question underneath confused him. However, he had no time to think of it further. Just a moment later, Didrik had pulled him into a careful embrace and kissed him. Nothing more than a quick peck on the lips, but more than enough to earn a reaction.

The way Johannes had writhed away and immediately punched after Didrik in that moment had been an instinctive reaction. He had taken a step back and hissed a flow of indecent words; words that still could not quash the burning pain of regret inside.

Didrik, however, wasn’t discouraged by the harsh rejection. On the contrary, it appeared to amuse him, and the familiar grin turned to a smirk only a second later.

"So that’s how it is," he had remarked confidently, moving closer again. More careful this time, allowing Johannes a moment to adjust to their closeness before he spoke again.

"I’m sorry. I did not mean to scare you." 

The apology had sounded sincere; the blue-grey eyes trustworthy even as their gazes locked.

"Do you think," Didrik had asked slowly, while touching a hand to Johannes’ cheek, "that you’d let me do that again, properly?"

Johannes had nodded and breathed the reply quietly. 

"Yes."

***

The thought made him bite his lip and wince, as if he could suddenly taste poison on his own lips. 

It wasn't that the kiss itself had been so bad. A little awkward, perhaps, but not possessive and dangerous and suffocating like he had learned to expect later. That first kiss was none of those things; just soft, carefully tender and somewhat unfulfilling. 

He had expected to feel… more? The moment had been so brief that he couldn’t help wanting more, yet the anger from a moment ago had not quite faded. A sting in his conscience kept reminding him that he shouldn’t have accepted this so easily, and that feeling did not fade even as Didrik placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him still as he caught eye contact.

"Thank you."

Just that. No questions, no words of goodbye, no nothing. Just those two words adding to what was already a myriad of thoughts in Johannes’ mind.

"You gave in," the voice in his head reminded him. "You wanted it, don’t try to say anything else."

By now exactly that was a familiar thought. One he still struggled with on a regular basis.

***

It took a moment for Johannes to realise that his grip on the steering wheel had hardened. He blinked and tried to will himself to calm down. However, loosening the grip only made it obvious that his hand was trembling and that his mind was on everything except the road in front of him.

If he couldn’t even drive safely, he had to find a place to stop. Take a break and get out of the nightmare in his mind. The same one that could be triggered by anything, and would always go over the same events from the same angles, again and again.

The trembling got more obvious as he stopped the car on a small roadside parking spot. Now that there was nothing else demanding his attention, he began to link the facts in his mind.

This was probably what Didrik had wanted when he showed up this morning. These tears, this mental instability, this complete lack of focus.

He would have been so fucking pleased, if he had known. 

***

The hotel room in Toblach had heavy, scarlet curtains. 

He had watched the shifting light on the fabric that night, and even paid special attention to that spot of wallpaper that was starting to come off because someone had picked on an edge that had probably not been glued perfectly. Perhaps it was nothing. Nothing that should have been worth his attention, anyway. However, even such minor details were better than being fully _there_ ; paying attention to Didrik straddling his hips and slowly, lazily pushing a hand under his shirt.

"How is it, though?" he demanded. "Being here, on the World Cup team?"

Johannes racked his mind for a satisfactory response. One that wouldn’t leave him open to more questions, but at the same time wouldn’t show how he really felt. Fitting in; finding his place in this new environment was his own task, and certainly not on the list of things he wanted to talk about. Least of all with this man, right now. 

"Fine," he said calmly. The accompanying shrug was almost unnoticeable due to the fact that he was lying down. 

Didrik murmured in response, tracing a hand from Johannes’ chest to his neck as he leaned closer. "I suppose that’s good," he mused. "But you know, this is a dangerous place. Competition is so fierce that not everyone is going to be happy about the possibility of losing their spot to you."

The words almost tickled his skin, but Johannes was still focusing mainly on that off-white scratch on the wall. He didn’t know how to react, but when Didrik kissed the corner of his mouth a moment later, he turned his head slightly. Pliant. Giving. The kiss remained rather superficial, though.

It was the sudden hard grip on his jaw that dragged him harshly back to reality. 

"First things first, you look at me when we’re talking, okay?" Didrik hissed the words and fixed him with a hard gaze. Once he was satisfied with the reaction, his lips curved into a smirk. 

"You know, I could help you. Or I could help the likes of Emil and Petter, and just let a few details about you slip in casual conversation."

That was enough. Johannes almost felt strangled by the panic that settled, ice cold and terrifying, in his body at such a threat.

"No," he whispered, breathlessly, gripping Didrik’s wrist desperately. "No!"

***

He could still taste that word; that unrestrained fear when he thought of it now. A few weeks later, the fear was no longer the worst, though. Far worse was the fact that in his attempt to regain at least some control, he had clung to the very person who had threatened him into submission. 

Made himself depend on being able to trust him. Bound himself to him. Unable to escape, now.

That thought made him sick.

***

His grip had been so strong that Didrik had to use the other hand to loosen it. However, even that did not wipe the smirk from his face.

"Relax", he had said, with a subtle, grinding movement of his hips. "We'll figure something out. And it won't be so bad... once you get used to it, at least."

The look there, though. Those laughing eyes, with that dangerous glint in them? It was the same look Johannes had crushed on in his teens. And for the time being, that scared him on a completely different level. He could handle the greedy touches under his shirt, the low, commanding voice asking him to take it off, and of course the almost gentle hand pulling him up into a sitting position on the bed. But this direct reminder that Didrik was still the same - had always been the same - was simply too much.

It was frightening, there was no other word for it.

Didrik made short work of his own t-shirt, and threw it into the corner of the room. In the next moment, his hand was on the top button of his jeans, undoing it with deft movements. A few subtle movements later, he seemed to rethink the idea.

"How about you do this for me, hm?" he breathed. "I trust you know what to do."

Johannes nodded, trembling only slightly as he brought a hand to the zipper, palming the front of Didrik's jeans as his fingers carefully found the zip-lock and undid it. Even that earned him a lewd groan, before he had even pushed the fabric out of the way. As he pushed his fingers inside the waistband of black boxers, he started to realise that if Didrik expected him to suck, it wouldn't be easy from this position. The easiest - and also the most humiliating, but he simply couldn't care about that right now - would be if he could simply get on his knees on the floor. The other possibility was to lean back on the bed, but that would give Didrik a much more direct angle to his throat, and would more than likely be too painful, and, given the minimal control he would have from that position, probably dangerous at the same time.

_Really, was he thinking that practically? What the heck was wrong with him?_

He tried to shift on the bed in such a way that he could slip one knee on the floor without making the movement seem suspicious. Much to his surprise, Didrik allowed him the change of position immediately, following the movement easily while threading a hand through Johannes' hair.

"Yes," he groaned as Johannes took the head of his cock into his mouth.

"It would be a waste of a gorgeous mouth to not let you do this."

Making it sound like there had been any sort of choice involved.

***

Johannes had been surprised that he had been allowed to suck at his own pace, without hands pressing at the back of his neck and without any further indecent comments besides the one about his mouth. In fact, the hands that kept treading through his hair or stroking his cheek remained gentle, even as the groans got louder and lewder.

Of course he should have known that such things were too good to last.

Didrik pulled away from his mouth after a while, suddenly impatient as he held out a hand to help him back up. However, things did not happen fast enough for his taste, and Johannes found himself roughly pulled to his feet and almost thrown on the bed. 

"Careful," he gasped. "Please."

As Didrik yanked his trousers and boxers down in one swift motion, he knew that his request had fallen on deaf ears. There was nothing careful in that motion, no kindness in the hands that spread his buttocks so brutally. Nothing left of the earlier gentleness. 

"At least use the lube," Johannes pleaded, looking over his shoulder and trying to kick himself free. 

The motion was ineffective due to his clothes still getting in the way, and it only earned him a slap on his arse and a mock question in return:

"What for? Didn't you do a good enough job with that a moment ago?"

The sneering tone hurt almost as much as the spit-slick fingers breaching his hole. He flinched and gasped in pain. Even that minor intrusion was painful enough as long as he had not been given any warning or time to adjust to it. His breath hitched at the added pressure another finger stretching him a moment later, and he gripped the sheet tightly as he felt his whole body tense in sudden fear. 

"I mean it," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Use the damn lube."

"Okay," Didrik agreed, still with that familiar sneer in his voice. As if his agreement was a favour; as if it wasn't just about making it easier to take his own pleasure.  
   
Johannes bit his lip and made sure to use the brief moment of freedom to kick off the rest of his clothes properly. If he would be given another chance to fight, he would do it with all his might, not restrained in that silly, humiliating way from a moment ago.  
   
He hated himself for staying put on the bed, though - for being so trapped that he didn’t take advantage of the moment to run away. Instead, he sighed inwardly at the somewhat rough texture of the sheets, before reaching for a pillow.  
   
He’d probably need it soon enough.

There was no way he was going to give Didrik the satisfaction of hearing him scream.  
   
***

He had still been forced to submit, though. That thought still made him furious, and then doubtful in the next moment.

Because, was it really force if there where no physical restraints keeping him there? He could have been mentally stronger, could have chosen differently, could have fled while he still had some sanity left?

Because surely Didrik wouldn’t have made good on his threat? Surely, that was too much, too cruel, even for him? 

"No," Johannes thought darkly. "He would. And he still might, if it suits him at some point."

If only he could accept that thought as true. Perhaps then he would be able to forgive his own part in this. Forget the piercing touch of nails digging into his skin at this hips. Stop wondering why he had not kicked and fought and tried to crawl away, but instead remained still and tried to relax in order to ease the inevitable pain of penetration.

He blinked a few times, as if that would somehow replace the pictures he kept seeing in his mind. Then he reached for the water bottle and took a long sip.

Unfortunately, shame did not come off that easily.

***

Even with his eyes watering and his breath still coming in short gasps, Johannes had managed to keep his promise. He had not screamed. Winced and moaned and exhaled a word of protest, maybe, but nothing more than that. 

Somehow, he had not thought of how each centimetre beyond the initial penetration would be as agonisingly painful. He crushed the pillow underneath his hand as he felt tears on his cheeks. A moment later, he clutched the corner of the pillowcase in a tight grip, trying not to think of Didrik’s lewd groans about "tight" and "beautiful" and a few other things that didn’t sound like compliments at all. 

The words made him feel dirty, just like the hands clawing at his skin in an attempt to get more of him. He’d probably have scratches for days from this, but that was still easier to handle than the sudden determined hand on his cock. 

In a way, those expert strokes were worse than the earlier pain, because they forced him to _feel_. To do more than just receive. Now he had to react… and the fact that he did felt like the worst betrayal of all.

"No!" he cried out, feeling himself growing painfully hard. "Please!"

He hated how the word "Don’t" somehow refused to come out of his mouth, even as he pressed back against Didrik with sudden need.

"You like it, though," he heard in his ear at that. "Whore."

***

That word. That lie still burned in his mind, because it made him feel guilty. After all, he did cum afterwards, when… 

"No!"

He said the word out loud, as if protesting now would change anything. At the very least, the shivering had stopped, though. 

He drew a sharp breath and reached for the water bottle again. However, this time he set it down after a moment, without even unscrewing the lid. He sighed. Grabbed his jacket and got out of the car. He needed to breathe some fresh air, and hopefully snap out of the endless spiral of memories replaying themselves in his mind.

Movement at the edge of his vision made him react, turn around immediately.

_Was he really that jumpy; that easily caught off balance, now?_

This time it was nothing dangerous, though. The flash of red that had caught his attention was a red fox, lurking about in the nearby field. The creature did not seem to be aware of his presence, despite the fact that it wasn’t far away at all. If he was lucky, he could maybe catch it on camera… if that wouldn’t ruin the moment and make the fox run away, of course.

Getting the phone from his pocket was usually not something that was difficult or time-consuming. This time, however, he tried to do it without making a single sound. It felt like it took an eternity to even open the camera app, but he was lucky enough to get a couple of good shots before the fox acknowledged his presence.

"You lucky thing, you," Johannes murmured after it as it slinked off between the trees and into the forest. "That’s a nice, big hiding place you have there."

However, he smiled as he looked through the video now stored on his phone.

He had seen the first fox in his life. 

That had to be a good sign for the weekend ahead.


End file.
